


NFWMB f/f

by Mrs_Baker



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Fantasy, Fluff, Hair Washing, Lesbian, Lesbian Character of Color, Lesbian Characters, Magic, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sorceress, not enough weird horny women writing fantasy, wlw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27577405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Baker/pseuds/Mrs_Baker
Summary: A sorceress waits for her wife to come home from foraging in the woods. They unwind in the bath :)
Relationships: Anthea/Ofelia, Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Kudos: 11





	NFWMB f/f

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, not enough weird horny women writing fantasy  
> Have some cute wlw in a fantasy setting where it's just cute.  
> title and lyrics from Hozier, not mine at all I make no money. Song is NFWMB

Give your heart and soul to charity

Cause the rest of you, the best of you

Honey, belongs to me

The sprawling manor sat behind a black cast iron gate long overgrown with vines and greenery. It had been empty for years by then and only recently had life been breathed back into it. The people of the town never knew what became of Lord Alaric or his adopted daughters or at least that used to be the case. Anthea knew what happened to her father and her sisters. But that is a story for another time.

A storm was brewing as Anthea stood on the balcony of the Altar room, rustling fine dark hairs that had escaped her updo and slipping under the fabric of her wine red dress. The shade of it complimented her tawny skin and dark eyes. The forest looked imposing in the encroaching winter with the tree branches shaded gray and black, leafless, and melancholic. Even from here, she could feel the restless energy of the woods as the storm groaned and grew to prepare to unleash rain and thunder. Her wife was still in there, somewhere, probably hunched over some plant. She laughed to herself at the mental image.

She turned to the Altar room and left the double doors open as gusts of sweet cool wind rushed in. She took a deep breath until that rain perfumed air dipped to the bottom of her lungs and exhaled. Anthea would never admit the anxiety it caused her when Ofelia went into the forest to gather her things, to commune with the woods. Her wife was familiar with the forest and she wasn’t afraid of it as the townspeople were. They needed her medicines after all but what if something happened? 

Anthea lit another candle, a red pillar candle stacked upon dried puddles of wax, and the stubs of burnt-out candles, tapers, and pillars replenished over and over. An old tradition from her homeland where altars grew with dried wax into great mounds. The arrangement of candles surrounded an oak table carved with vines and leaves and curlicues that held a single golden box in the center. On the wall above it was a painting of her goddess, the shape of a woman shrouded in a haze of crimson with her tawny arms crossed over her chest. The background was deep rich mahogany as if she were floating in the darkness of a womb. 

“Keep her safe always,” Anthea whispered and the flame of the candle she’d lit wavered and wobbled before lifting off the wick entirely. The candle then lit itself. 

Ofelia was an herbalist and provided for the town when the physician could not but it meant hours of going through the forest to replenish her stores. It was how they met, well part of the story, anyhow. Ofelia was rangy and could be a woman of few words at times although it suited them both quite well. Anthea did not mind the long silences they lapsed into at times, usually when they were wrapped up in each other in bed or on the reading couch in the study. She sighed smiling to herself at the memories. And Ofelia was not afraid of Anthea as the townspeople had been although she had to admit they weren’t wrong exactly for being cautious. 

Anthea had heard some rumors swirling around Ofelia when she first returned to her childhood home to revive it. Ofelia was reclusive and quiet and always turned down suitors. She belonged to the woods, Anthea used to hear. Not exactly, Anthea thought to herself. Ofelia found solace in the forest perhaps but loneliness as well.

She gave the altar room once last look over and the dried flowers in the vases and the growing hill of red wax and left it. Her heels clicked solidly against the tiled floor as she made her way to the expansive bathroom to prepare it for Ofelia.

The bathtub was of sanded and varnished stone cream in color and big enough for at least three people. Anthea rolled up her sleeves and turned on the water, heard the manor creak and groan as the faucet spat out warm water before turning into a smooth stream. The wind began to moan and groan outside and a few fat drops began to splatter the windows. Anthea paid it no mind as she went over to the cabinets and pulled out jars of dried flower petals and buds, delicate glass containers of bath oils and salts.

She poured the flowers and herbs into a sachet of muslin and dropped in the bath, then selected bath salts and oils. The bathroom grew warm and fragrant as she worked, humming to herself. After a few more minutes, Anthea heard movement in that wing of the manor.

“Annie?” Ofelia called out and she stood up and went over to the door.

“In here, my love,” she said looking over Ofelia, whose hair and clothes were soaked with rain. Her black hair fell over her shoulder in a messy braid and her skirts were lank and muddy at the hem. There were a leaf and a piece of a twig in her hair.

“How was your day?” Anthea asked as she reached for Ofelia’s left hand and took it carefully into her own and inspected the slice on her knuckle.

“Tiring. Although the mushrooms are going to be abundant this year,” She said softly and Anthea perked up at that.

“Which type?” she asked as they walked into the bathroom and Ofelia smiled when she saw the bath.

“For me?” she asked and Anthea smiled, lifted up her hand, and kissed Ofelia’s knuckles.

“Of course, my love,” she answered and Ofelia drew her in for a kiss, settled her hands on her velvet-clad waist. She saw green when she kissed Ofelia, behind her eyelids. She couldn’t explain it. It was green and reminded her of silver dew sitting on tender leaves of grass. My dewdrop. A pet name she’d never actually said aloud and wasn’t sure if she ever would.

They broke apart and Ofelia buried her face in Anthea’s neck, pressed a kiss to her pulse. 

“Thank you, Annie,” Ofelia whispered, “Now you have to join me.”

Clothes shed and settled in the bathtub with Ofelia between her thighs (for a change) Anthea carefully carded her fingers through her hair, soft and thick as sable, untangling the knots with her nimble fingers. Ofelia groaned and leaned back as she massaged her scalp and scooped up water with a hand to rinse that last of the suds from her hair. Anthea shifted her hair over her shoulder and kissed her neck and then the back of her shoulder. Anthea leaned back in the tub and put an arm around Ofelia’s waist and coaxed her back until they were pressed together, Ofelia idly touching her knee. The scent of rose and chamomile drifted up and over them.

They lapsed into silence with Ofelia’s head on her chest, her eyes closed and breathing deep and even. The water was still hot and her wife was tired so Anthea decided to stay still and bask in her presence, listen to the drum of the rain against the roof and windows. After some time, Ofelia shifted a bit and opened her eyes, giving Anthea’s knee a squeeze.

“We should get out before we both fall asleep,” Ofelia said with a soft laugh and Anthea smiled.

“Yes, our bed would feel a lot warmer,” she said as she reached over to grab some linens to dry off. Once dry, Anthea handed her a clean shift which she slipped over her head and yawned. Anthea tugged on her own shift and then without warning, reached over and scooped up Ofelia into her arms like a bride.

“Anthea!” Ofelia yelped and she smirked as she hooked her arm around Anthea’s neck.

“The floor is wet darling, I don’t want you to slip,” she said as she walked out of the bathroom and towards their bedroom.

“I’d prefer if you did not slip while holding me,” Ofelia said with a raised eyebrow.

“I’d break your fall at least,” Anthea replied and Ofelia shook her head smiling. The bedroom had a large four-poster with cream curtains tied back with black ribbons, and candlelight glinted off the dark wooden floors. It smelled vaguely of incense, something warm and earthy. Anthea deposited Ofelia on the bed who lifted the blankets and settled down on her side.

Anthea crawled in beside her and Ofelia scooted back until their bodies fit together as she put an arm around her waist. Anthea looked at the candles on the table in their room until all but one flame remained.

“Goodnight, darling,” Anthea murmured into Ofelia’s hair. 

“G’night Annie.”

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like the beginning had a really sad tone and well...my bad. Maybe that's not what some people picked up. I tend to write dark shit and I wanted to write something that was actually cute and happy. I have more in store for these characters but I take five years to write one thing so we'll see. I'm soft as fuck for these characters


End file.
